


Sleepy Nerds

by Bobcatmoran



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobcatmoran/pseuds/Bobcatmoran
Summary: Written in response to a Tumblr meme prompt from ratheralark: "Accidentally falling asleep together for Combeferre and Feuilly?"





	Sleepy Nerds

The thump was what woke Feuilly up. He startled, eyes open, darting around the dark room, taking in unfamiliar shadows. After a moment, he remembered where he was. He was at Combeferre’s lodgings, where they had been sitting together on the sofa. They were trying to decipher a Greek newspaper with the help of Combeferre’s schoolboy Greek, a large French-Greek dictionary, and a lot of creative guesswork to fill in the differences between the Greek of Aristotle and that of Ypsilantis.

The late spring sun streaming through the window had been warm, and Feuilly had, after a few laborious paragraphs, said he was going to take a nap in order to clear the cobwebs from his head, as the words were starting to swim before his eyes. Combeferre had made a sort of vague assenting sound, turning back to the dictionary.

And now it was dark, and the heavy thump must have been the dictionary sliding onto the floor. And Combeferre — Combeferre had also apparently succumbed to sleep at some point, because there was a large weight on Feuilly’s side, wearing glasses that were poking into Feuilly’s ribs.

Feuilly was quite aware that he couldn’t possibly be the most comfortable pillow, and whatever position Combeferre had slumped over in, that couldn’t possibly be good for his glasses. Nevertheless, he was reluctant to move. Would he wake Combeferre up? Eventually, the general uncomfortableness of his position, the realization that he did still have work tomorrow, and a feeling that Combeferre would be less likely to develop cramps in odd spots if he were asleep in his own bed, led Feuilly to gently tap Combeferre on the shoulder.

“Mnnnf,” Combeferre intelligently said, flailing an arm around, and weakly hitting Feuilly in the side of his head. “Gwah? Wassa…Feuilly?”

“Yes?”

“Sorry. Did I hit you?”

“Not too hard.”

“Mmgh. Sorry about that. What time is it?”

“Not sure.”

Combeferre fumbled in his waistcoat for his watch and squinted at it in the moonlight streaming in through the window. “Ten, no, eleven o'clock? More or less.” He sat up and stretched. “I must’ve fallen asleep. Didn’t mean to. Really didn’t mean to do so on top of you.”

“Not a problem. I was asleep myself and hardly noticed. But I should be heading home.”

Combeferre adjusted his glasses. “You can stay the rest of the night if you like. The sofa’s long enough to stretch out on, and I’ve got some extra blankets.”

“No, I think it would be better to head back to my place. I can sleep in a bit longer there, since I’m closer to the atelier.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Thank you, but yes, I’m sure.”

“Well, get home safely. And thank you for the translation experience. We can perhaps try and finish the article tomorrow evening?”

“If you have time,” Feuilly said.

“For something like this, of course! Examining the contrast between the Ancient and Modern Greek, and getting the first-hand accounts — my goodness, even if I didn’t have the time, I would find a way to make it.”

Feuilly smiled at Combeferre’s enthusiasm. “Well, good night, then.”

“Good night. Take care.”


End file.
